


A Favour for the King

by UnparalleledAngel



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A little bit of plot, Blow Jobs, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Hand Jobs, King Mettaton, M/M, Mettaton is "platonically" nude again, Post-Undertale Neutral Route - King Mettaton Ending, Smut, just pure smut, of course that can only end one way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-06 20:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13419273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnparalleledAngel/pseuds/UnparalleledAngel
Summary: King Mettaton finds out just how talented his skeleton agent is and asks for an innocent favour. "Innocent" is not the best word to describe the result.Takes place before King Mettaton has started getting too... dodgy.





	A Favour for the King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iqom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iqom/gifts), [PinkuBon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkuBon/gifts).



Being able to nab himself any spare time was a rare event nowadays. Papyrus wouldn’t usually mind. Breaks were for the lazy. They were for the boondogglers and layabouts, not people like him. He could go on working all day and all night if allowed. But lately, since Undyne’s disappearance and Mettaton’s coronation, he’d found his hankering for a good rest had been increasing every day.

He was Mettaton’s agent. If he’d have been told a year ago that this would be his fate, he’d be over the moon.

Though, this wasn’t quite the circumstances he’s always have hoped for. The kingdom was desolate, and people’s hopes of ever escaping the mountain were growing bleak.

But hey, at least Papyrus got to work with Mettaton! Papyrus couldn’t complain about that. They’d grown close over the past few weeks, turning to the other for comfort when all hope seemed to drain from them and they didn’t know who else to turn to. Papyrus wished he could take the burden of being king away from him, and yet he knew Mettaton would never allow it.

He was king, he’d say. He could look after himself, he’d say. There are absolutely no problems, he’d say.

Papyrus was beginning to understand that the things Mettaton said weren’t always to be taken at face value.

But nevertheless, he stood by him and helped him in any way he could. If that meant just being a shoulder to cry on, he’d accept it.

Today, however, he was taking a well earned break. Papyrus’ hobbies had lay to waste as of late. No drawing, no reading, no cooking and not even any puzzles! His mind was craving some form of creative release, his hands aching to hold a pencil again, to just let his mind run free for a moment and forget the situation they had all been forced into.

He sat himself in the courtyard with a sketchbook and some HB pencil he’d found in Asgore’s former office. He hoped old King Fluffyface didn’t mind him using his pencil, but a morbid thought told that he’d have no use for it now anyway.

Papyrus found the flowers in the courtyard to be a good place to start with his doodles. He picked one out and began sketching the shapes and form of the petals observantly, his hollow eyes darting between his sketchbook to his chosen flower quickly. Every now and then, he moved to a different side of the flower and began sketching it again from another angle. Soon, his page was full of the same flower, trying not leaving any little space empty.

Papyrus was a perfectionist, erasing markings and sketching them again until they looked just like the subject in real life. But right now, due to his lack of eraser (his search in Asgore’s office hadn’t managed to procure him one) he was forced to draw things wrong and just carry on without editing. He frowned at his paper, not incredibly happy with his work but not minding too much.

He was only drawing to release some creative energy, not to make a masterpiece. The ill-drawn lines still bothered him slightly, however.

“Papyrus? Are you drawing down there?” Mettaton’s curious voice sounded from behind him, making him jump up from his sitting position on the floor.

His heart lurched as he turned around to look Mettaton in the eye, hoping he wouldn’t be reprimanded for taking time off. But when he looked the robot in the eye, all he saw was a soft interest in his activities.

After a few seconds of awkward silence filled only with Papyrus’ mouth opening and shutting, as though he kept talking himself out of what he was going to say, he finally remembered that Mettaton had asked him a question.

“Yes!” he said, handing the sketchbook over to Mettaton, who took it with eager fingers. “Something to pass the time,” he told him, hoping he wouldn’t judge his talent too harshly.

The tips of Mettaton’s fingers drifted over the page lightly, not wanting to smudge the graphite but being unable to resist pouring himself over these sketches in awe. Papyrus had such an attention to detail, with delicate shading, beautiful lines and tiny aspects that Mettaton almost had to squint to even notice.

He smiled back up at Papyrus, wishing he’d known about this talent earlier. It quickly became apparent to Mettaton that maybe their conversations up until this point had been entirely one-sided. Always about Mettaton’s struggles. His losses. His complaints. And yet he knew so little about the skeleton he always vented to. Not even what he did for fun.

“These are wonderful, Papyrus,” Mettaton spoke after a while, realising he’d been silently thinking and leaving Papyrus anxiously watching on for a whole minute.

Relief coursed over the skeleton, evident in his relaxing features. “You really like them?”

“I do.” Mettaton nodded, “I didn’t know you were so talented, sweetheart. It’s almost a shame to not make use of such a skill...” he said, squinting as an idea formulated in his head.

“Eh?” Papyrus raised his brow bone in confusion. “What do you mean by that, Mettaton?”

“Well...” He bit his lip with a second of thought. “How good are you at drawing portraits?”

Taking back the sketchbook from Mettaton’s hands, Papyrus hummed, thinking. “I’m okay! I’m better at _painting_ portraits, though... it’s easier to get all the detail down with colour.”

“That’s perfect!” Mettaton cheered. “Now I don’t want to put you on the spot here, darling, if you don’t want to do this, then it’s perfectly fine but-”

Papyrus completely disregarded all of this. If Mettaton wanted him to do something, he’d do it without hesitation. Ironically, Papyrus was the only person in the kingdom who actually got _asked_ to do things rather than being ordered and yet he was the only one who wouldn’t benefit from the difference. He’d give Mettaton the world if he could.

“How would you feel about painting a picture of me? Something to go up in the throne room perhaps. I was thinking of putting posters up on that horrifyingly drab wall, but I think an oil painting would feel more... regal!” Mettaton said, stars twinkling in his eyes. Then his appearance changed slightly, and his excitement lessened, the emotion changing to something Papyrus couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Also, just a little warning... I’d prefer it if my clothes were... let’s say, lacking. Of course, there’d be something to cover up my... delicate areas. We don’t want it to be too crass...” Mettaton stopped himself, realising he’d gotten himself so caught up in his idea that he’d forgotten Papyrus hadn’t even said yes yet.

When Papyrus’ features were unreadable, Mettaton opened his mouth to remind him that this was optional, but Papyrus cut him off.

“I’d love to!” Papyrus informed him. “I’ve honestly never had a live model before, but I’ve made fancy oil paintings of people in the past, just from pictures! I’d be honoured to paint you!”

Mettaton, almost taken aback by Papyrus’ enthusiasm, composed himself and smiled. “Excellent!”

They returned to their royal duties over the next few days, planning on doing the painting at the weekend when they both managed to put aside some spare time.

In the meantime, Papyrus was brushing up on his portrait drawing skills whenever he got the chance. Painting something for Mettaton, _King_ Mettaton no less, was something Papyrus didn’t view lightly. It was a big responsibility, and even though Mettaton had asked him to do this as a favour, he still wanted it to go perfectly. 

To picture Mettaton disappointed in him made his heart ache.

The weekend arrived.

 “Come on in,” Mettaton called when Papyrus knocked on his bedroom door. Papyrus could let himself in and out of Mettaton’s quarters as he pleased, and often had to due to his job role, rushing in to inform him of some new information or to deliver something of importance. And today, on Mettaton’s request, he’d entered Mettaton’s private section of the castle at exactly 1pm, not a minute late.

With a shaking hand, Papyrus opened the door, seeing Mettaton who’d apparently been preparing diligently for his arrival. The easel and paint was already set up, along with the setting of the painting; a deep purple chaise lounge backed by an open fire that turned all the colours warm and cosy. Mettaton himself watched Papyrus enter, smiling gently when he saw him taking in the surroundings, his hollow eyes finally drifting to the king himself.

He was wearing a deep red dressing gown with fur trimmed sleeves and hem. He certainly looked ‘regal’ already, but Papyrus knew this look wouldn’t last. Mettaton nodded at Papyrus, who got the hint and closed his eyes, letting Mettaton get himself ready.

It only took a few moments and Mettaton was telling Papyrus to open his eyes again.

There he was in all his glory, spread out sideways across the chair, with one arm draped over the higher side and his long legs reaching all the way to the end. He, of course, had a fur blanket that covered his privacy. He smirked as he saw Papyrus’ eyes dart towards it, knowing exactly what was running through his mind. He was lucky he’d decided not to go fully nude, or else Papyrus’ embarrassment could have halted the painting progress altogether, judging by how flustered he looked just now.

“Wowie! It really is hot in here, isn’t it?” Papyrus commented, regretting showing up in his work clothes- a full suit and tie. But, then again, he’d never want Mettaton to think he hadn’t put an effort in to look nice.

Mettaton nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’m not the most adept at fire magic, so I simply used some of my electricity to get the fire going. Though, I can’t quite control how hot it gets like fire-based monsters can...”

“Neither can I,” Papyrus admitted. “My magic consists of mostly bones and gravity manipulation. I’ve never been very good at fire magic.”

Mettaton raised an eyebrow. ‘Gravity manipulation’ certainly sounded interesting but he’d question him more about that later.

“You can start whenever you like, sweetheart. And if you start to feel a little overheated, don’t worry about shedding a few layers. It’s not like I’m in a position to judge afterall,” Mettaton said, looking down at his own naked self.

Papyrus nodded, deeming the situation not quite desperate enough for that. Mettaton being naked was difficult enough for him to handle gentlemanly without being naked himself. 

Without much more hesitation, Papyrus sat himself down on a stool in front of the easel and surveyed the scene. Trying not to take note of Mettaton too much, he jotted down the basics of the setting onto the canvas hastily with a pencil, making sure the proportions were all correct. The chaise lounge, the positioning of the fireplace, the height of the ceiling to the floor, the rug that pulled everything together. And finally, he focused on the man himself. He put down a very quick sketch of him, just needing to know just where he’d fit on the canvas without a huge amount of detail for the time being. He’d be putting in the background first anyway. 

Once he’d put everything down with pencil, he found himself excited to begin with the actual painting. It had been a while since he’d sat down with a paintbrush and just allowed himself to escape into that creative world where anything was possible. He used to paint fantasy worlds, brave knights and beautiful princesses, daring dragons and talented swordsmen. It was one of his favourite forms of escape.

Granted, today was different. His painting was completely observational, focused on realism. Though he was still painting one of his favourite subjects. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t drawn Mettaton in the past, his obsession with the celebrity often coincided with his hobbies. He sometimes even wrote poems for him that he would die if he saw now. 

It took around an hour just to get the background in and Papyrus was starting to worry that he was taking too long. Mettaton was a busy man, could he really sit still for this long, just waiting for him to move onto the part of the painting that he was actually in? Papyrus felt like it was best not to tell him that he actually had no need for him to be here this whole time, as he’d been focusing on getting those drapes the perfect shade for way too long.

Mettaton, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. He kept his position well, showing no signs of discomfort or boredom. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying this completely. Perhaps it was the break from his usual routine that was keeping him so entertained, or maybe... something else? Papyrus couldn’t quite tell. It was only until he started painting the robot in detail that he noticed just how hot it was in there.

“Maybe I should take off my jacket after all,” Papyrus said, hoping he hadn’t been sweating. That wouldn’t be attractive.

“Fine by me,” Mettaton said, watching as Papyrus removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his stool neatly. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow to get himself extra comfortable. “Better?” Mettaton questioned. 

Papyrus nodded, not entirely sure. It was still hot, but taking off his jacket didn’t seem to help at all. He shook his head at himself subtly. _Concentrate Papyrus!_ he scolded, _you still have a whole painting to finish, it doesn’t matter how hot you are!_

Mettaton watched his internal conflict with amusement. He really was cute when he was flustered. And Mettaton knew for a fact that this was what was troubling him.

Mettaton could spot that look of embarrassment a mile off. 

Papyrus carried on with his painting, putting down the dark tones of Mettaton’s visage. The shadows along the arch of his nose, the curvature of his lips, the shades of grey that made up his heavy eyelid. Mettaton himself was a masterpiece. Beautiful. The kind of appearance that left you wondering if he’d been carved by the hands of Michelangelo. And right now he was a vision of raw appeal, stripped of his armour as well as his clothes, leaving his bare body to be viewed without scrutiny.

Painting his body was something else all together. His legs were a joy to look at, sure, but Mettaton’s stare was becoming increasingly intense as he painted these areas. He was sure he could feel his eyes burning into the side of his skull. Papyrus tried to avoid it but often found himself making eye contact with him, feeling his cheeks burn each time. It was different when painting his face, they had an excuse for looking at each other then. But now that he was painting the more intimate areas, it was like Mettaton’s gaze was unbearable, like he could see right through him and into his mind.

And _God,_ did Papyrus not want Mettaton looking into his mind right now.

Despite all of his best efforts, Papyrus couldn’t help but have his mind wander in the seedy depths of fantasy. Mettaton, in all his gleaming bareness, was a sight tantalising enough to inspire such thoughts, making Papyrus wonder what would happen if Mettaton just stripped away the blanket covering him, baring all. Seeing Mettaton completely nude with no barriers would be indescribable, Papyrus was sure, his mind was whirling just by the thought of it.

The more he painted the lower half of his body, the more he had to think about it. The fact that the only thing hiding Mettaton’s nudity from him was a thin, furry blanket made Papyrus feel tingles running up his spine. That thought was exciting, almost like he was doing something sordid just by painting that blanket, knowing what it was concealing underneath.

That was when Papyrus had to stop himself, bringing himself back to reality. 

 _Snap out of it, Papyrus!_ he scolded, shaking his head, _you’re supposed to be professional here, just painting a picture for the king! Get a hold of yourself_.

He took a deep breath and looked back at Mettaton, planning on keeping his head out of the gutter for the rest of his project. However, something about Mettaton’s expression had changed completely since he last looked at him. Something had grabbed his attention, something amusing by the looks of that salacious grin that sat on his lips. Then he looked Papyrus in the eye once again, biting his lip playfully as he did so.

Like he’d been hit with a brick, shame hit Papyrus as he realised what Mettaton had been looking at. The skeleton’s own gaze darted to his crotch. Apparently those erotic thoughts had been more potent than Papyrus previously guessed. The idea of Mettaton’s naked body was affecting him greatly, judging by the great feeling of tightness in Papyrus’ pants.

He scolded himself further. He was acting like a teenager who couldn’t take a nude art model seriously without giggling and blushing incessantly. Though, perhaps it wasn’t just the nudity that had caught him off-guard, but simply the person involved with it. The thought of naked Mettaton had been the subject of Papyrus’ fantasies for a long while and here it finally was, so deliciously close.

Determined to not let this ruin anything, Papyrus soldiered on, crossing his legs awkwardly on the stool, wishing he had a cushion to cover himself up with.

A low rumble of amusement came from Mettaton as he watched his efforts to conceal himself.

 _At least he’s finding this all entertaining,_ Papyrus thought, _I’d never forgive myself if he found my indecency disgusting._

And so they carried on. After a while, Papyrus almost let himself calm down, focusing wholly on the little flecks of fluff on the blanket, making sure it all looked perfect. He wasn’t so _excited_ anymore, the initial thrill of it all beginning to wear off after looking at Mettaton’s body for so long. 

That is, until he noticed the blanket had shifted slightly. Papyrus disregarded the fact to begin with, taking it as a result of Mettaton moving a little, causing the blanket to gather up at the front.

The more times his eyes drifted to it, however, he couldn’t work out how the blanket could have possibly bunched up in that way without something pushing it from behind-

_Oh._

Papyrus looked at Mettaton’s face as though he’d find all the answers there. All he got back was a flushed look of embarrassment. Mettaton’s cheeks were beaming, and yet his provocative appearance wasn’t altered. If anything, Mettaton looked sexier then he’d looked all afternoon. Papyrus could have sworn he saw him swipe his tongue over his lips hungrily. 

The skeleton’s hand brought the paintbrush shakily back up to the canvas. There was no doubt about it now, he was aroused again. At least he could have solace in the fact that it was Mettaton who caused it this time.

Well, Mettaton caused it last time, too... but at least this time he played more of an active part in it.

Papyrus wasn’t sure how much longer he could carry on like this. His hand was shaking, and he could barely think about colours or shading when Mettaton looked like _that._

Mettaton noticed his plight. Noticed the struggle he was having to carry on. Noticed how his gaze kept returning to his arousal. He sat up slightly, an air of concern on his features.

“Darling, you can take a break if you want. I suppose we don’t have to get the whole thing finished in one sitting,” Mettaton said. His voice was deep and rumbling, like he couldn’t keep the lust out of it.

Papyrus was reluctant to stop. He’d come here to do a job, a favour for the king. He couldn’t just give up because of his own arousal getting the better of him. He furrowed his brow bone and put the paintbrush down, but not to stop, only to undo his tie and fold it up, placing it on the floor by his stool. Then he undid the top three buttons of his shirt.

There, that would surely help. The heat of the room was probably just getting to him. He could carry on with ease now.

“Papyrus, sweetheart. If you stopped for a moment, I could... oh, I don’t know, reward you for all your hard work today?” Mettaton stopped posing for the first time that afternoon, sitting up straight. “Papyrus, I know this is what you’ve been dying to see-”

Mettaton gathered Papyrus’ attention, intrigued. Without hesitating, Mettaton picked up the blanket it one hand and removed it, letting it tumble disgracefully to the floor. Papyrus felt himself grow harder just by the sight of Mettaton, who’d spread his legs wide for Papyrus’ gaze.

“This is what you’ve wanted, isn’t it, honey?” Mettaton teased, rolling his hips, his hard cock twitching under Papyrus’ stare. “You’ve been dying for me to expose myself to you. Wishing you were over here with me, touching the body that seemed so out of reach.”

Papyrus couldn’t answer, he just kept staring and staring like he was trying to tattoo the image on his memories.

A slow robotic hand drifted up his thigh and to his erection, playing with himself to gauge Papyrus’ reaction. His expectations were met brilliantly as Papyrus’ chest heaved, wiggling his own hips in an attempt to stimulate the growing length that Mettaton was causing. 

“Pappy, darling, if you like what you see so much, why don’t you come over here and join in?” Mettaton asked, “I don’t bite... unless you really want me to.”

That offer sent shivers down Papyrus’ whole body, making him ache with a hunger he’d never experienced before. He couldn’t resist any longer. The painting had shot to the back of his mind, not even caring when the paintbrush fell from his hand and went clattering to the floor. He stood and made his way to the chaise lounge where Mettaton was situated, his excitement increasing with each step.

As soon as he was within the robot’s reach, Mettaton took him by the shoulders and pinned him to the back of the seat, quickly moving to straddle his lap. He could feel Papyrus’ cock throb beneath him as he sat there, wiggling his hips a little to elicit a pleasured moan from the skeleton.

“I’ve been attracted to you for a while, Papyrus,” Mettaton admitted, drawing closer to him until their faces were almost touching. “But I always thought it would be too unprofessional to act upon it.”

Papyrus split the difference, moving in to meet Mettaton’s lips. They kissed deeply, passionately. All of the sexual tension they’d built up over the passed few hours were unravelling in their touches, their kisses, the way they moaned as they moved against each other.

“I-I’ve been attracted to you, too,” Papyrus said when their kiss parted. “I’ve... always found you very sexy.”

Mettaton chuckled. “Well, that’s evident,” he teased, pushing his ass against Papyrus’ bulge. Instead of leaning in for another kiss, he pushed Papyrus back and let his hands travel all over his aching body. Papyrus was desperate. Leaning in to every touch like he’d never felt something so good before. He whined whenever Mettaton’s touch wandered too far south, and then whined more when he took his hands away again. 

“Like I said previously, sweetheart, I really would like to reward you for all of your hard-work in creating such a wonderful painting,” Mettaton breathed, his gripping hands moving lower once again until they were groping his spine through his shirt.

“You h-haven’t even seen the painting,” Papyrus informed him.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s marvellous.”

“Ah-well, o-okay then,” Papyrus said, unable to keep anything stable, not his shaking body, not his wavering voice, not even the fireworks that were currently exploding in his mind.

“Okay then?” Mettaton asked, stopping just short of his crotch.

Papyrus nodded, knowing exactly what he was asking and wanting him to get straight to it already. The anticipation was driving him over the edge. He wouldn’t last much longer if he underwent much more teasing.

Mettaton smiled once again, finally moving his hand lower, taking Papyrus’ bulge in his hand and squeezing, taking note of how big he felt underneath his clothes. Papyrus let out a whimper and pushed his pelvis forward, wanting nothing more in that moment than for Mettaton to do that again and again for the rest of his life.

But Mettaton had a much better idea than just groping him through his trousers. In fact, his ‘reward’ went much further than that.

He unbuckled Papyrus’ belt and unzipped his trousers, tugging them down to his ankles. The sudden exposure made Papyrus’ legs tingle, the fact that Mettaton was looking at him in just his underwear was doing things to his composure. Mettaton wasn’t finished with just underwear either, he reached into Papyrus’ boxers and pulled out his cock, marvelling at how large he was. No wonder it was so easy to spot when Papyrus was aroused when he had _this_ tucked away in his pants.

Papyrus’ hips bucked under the touch of Mettaton’s hand. He was trying his hardest not to cum straight away, he really was. But this was the first time someone other than himself had had their hand around his length, and that someone was _Mettaton_.

He questioned momentarily whether he was dreaming, but his dreams had never felt so good in the past.

Mettaton let go of him, then, standing up. Papyrus panicked, thinking that Mettaton was just going to leave him there, but his worries were quickly quashed when Mettaton positioned himself in front of him on the floor, kneeling down in between his legs.

Mettaton took the trousers that had gathered around Papyrus’ ankles and pulled them off completely, allowing himself more room between Papyrus’ legs, and also letting Papyrus’ spread them wider. The robot smiled up at him, a glint in his eye that suggested he was waiting for something.

“Are you ready, darling?” he asked when Papyrus said nothing.

“Y-yes!” Papyrus gasped shuffling himself forward so he was positioned on the edge of the seat for Mettaton’s benefit. “Are you sure this is what yo-AH!”

Mettaton had taken Papyrus’ tip into his mouth, answering Papyrus’ question. This is definitely what Mettaton wanted, he’d been dying to get Papyrus in this position for weeks. A blowjob by the king was something Mettaton knew would send anyone crazy. And it was Papyrus in particular who he wanted to treat. Always such a good worker, always putting in all of his enthusiasm into everything he did, always being there when Mettaton needed support. Now he was sucking him off.

Mettaton’s debt was somewhat repaid, in his opinion.

Wet sounds filled the room, intermingled with shrill moans and gasps coming from the eager skeleton. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he tucked them in Mettaton’s hair as he sucked. The feeling was inexpressible: all Papyrus could articulate were strangled moans. The wetness of Mettaton’s mouth surrounding him was better than he’d ever imagined. He felt like the world around him was fading away and the only thing he could think about was that feeling, that sensation, the fact that Mettaton’s mouth currently had his cock in it. 

Papyrus loved that fact.

It didn’t take a lot of stimulation before he could feel that familiar tension begin to build up. He restrained the urge to buck his hips into Mettaton’s mouth and simply curled his toes and tensed his legs in place instead.

“O-oh, Mettaton, I’m close. I’m so close. I’m so- _OH_ ,” Papyrus was cut off by the feeling of Mettaton’s actions growing more intense, thrumming his tongue against the underside of his shaft as if trying to pull the orgasm out of him.

Papyrus’ locked his legs in place with all of his strength as he came. Mettaton was pushing him over the edge with everything he could muster. He squeezed his eyes shut as he came in Mettaton’s mouth, the world melting away around him as all he could feel was how good that orgasm felt. The unadulterated bliss of it washed over him in waves, building up in every fibre of his being and letting go all in one big release.

Papyrus slumped against the back of the chaise lounge and Mettaton pulled away, swallowing what he’d caught in his mouth. With an impish grin, Mettaton licked the tip of Papyrus’ erection clean, causing the skeleton to whine and shiver with overstimulation.

He sighed with relief when Mettaton let him go and came to sit by his side, pulling his skull onto his chest in a tired embrace.

As he rubbed Papyrus’ back lovingly, he spoke, “You make the most gorgeous noises, darling. So sexy. So very sexy,” he cooed, rubbing circles into the back of his ribs.

Papyrus’ satisfied mind almost missed Mettaton’s rugged tone as he cooed compliments at him, telling him how attractive he was to him. With a sudden realisation, Papyrus sat up.

“You’re still aroused,” Papyrus said, ashamed of himself as soon as he spoke. Of course he was still aroused, Papyrus had given him nothing in return. What kind of gentleman did that make him? Papyrus was set on making this right at once. “Don’t worry, Mettaton, I’ll reciprocate.”

“That’s okay, honey, you don’t have to. I didn’t do that expecting anything in return-”

But Papyrus had already slid onto the floor in front of Mettaton, just as Mettaton had before.

“But I want to, Mettaton. I want to make you feel good,” he said simply, waiting for Mettaton to spread his legs for him.

Mettaton didn’t need much persuading. He really was aroused, and if Papyrus wanted to pleasure him, he certainly wasn’t going to turn him down. He sat like Papyrus had on the edge of the seat, leaving his cock open to Papyrus’ touch.

Papyrus thought about how he was going to do this. He didn’t have lips like Mettaton did, and he wouldn’t get much out of being in his hollow mouth. But Papyrus had hands, and knew quite well how to use them so that would have to suffice.

He reached out and then hesitated, making Mettaton’s quivering anticipation become unbearable. “My hands are made of bone, so they may be a little rough.”

“And I’m made of metal, don’t worry about it.”

Papyrus nodded, taking his shaft in his palm gingerly and moving his hand up the length curiously. Mettaton looked down at him with lidded eyes, willing him to carry on with a single naughty glance. Papyrus began tugging on him in earnest then, spreading precum over the length to make his movements slick.

“Ohhh, fuck, Papyrus,” Mettaton moaned as he threw his head back. Papyrus’ hand felt incredible, the firmness of his bones pushing into the synthetic nerves of his erection perfectly, causing pleasure Mettaton had never been able to conjure by himself. Papyrus also had a better technique than he did, often applying just the right amount pressure to the underside of his cock and making his head spin.

Papyrus’ superiority in terms of skill only made sense, after all, Papyrus had had a cock much longer than Mettaton, and had many more years worth of practice pleasuring it. In fact, for most of those years, it was the thought of Mettaton that made it all the easier for him to touch himself. Papyrus was only happy to give back to him after all those great fantasies.

“Does that feel good, Mettaton?” Papyrus asked as he tugged at him. He could already guess Mettaton’s answer due to his delighted moans but he wanted to hear it for himself.

“Yes, Papyrus, _yes, it-AH, that feels so good_. Don’t stop, darling, d-don’t stop.”

Papyrus smiled. The praise was greatly appreciated. All he wanted was to make his king- no, _Mettaton_ , feel good and he certainly seemed to be doing so.

Mettaton had his eyes closed and his breath was awash with deep groans and halted breaths. After a short while, he found himself rocking his hips to the administrations of Papyrus’ hand.

“God, I’m close, darling,” Mettaton warned, expecting Papyrus to change his position. His face was currently in the firing line for Mettaton’s cum. When he didn’t move, Mettaton moaned louder. “P-papyrus, are you sure you want to be there, d-darling?”

Papyrus gave him a look Mettaton had never seen before, one full of lust and desire. Almost dirty. And with that, he opened his mouth, giving Mettaton his answer.

The sight of Papyrus awaiting his cum so eagerly like that made Mettaton’s orgasm speed along quicker than he expected.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Mettaton cried out, cumming intensely into Papyrus’ mouth. The cum hit, soaking Papyrus as it dribbled through the back of his throat and down his spine.

Once he’d calmed down, Mettaton looked down at him, revelling in the fact that Papyrus was covered in his cum, not just in his mouth but around his teeth. Papyrus wiped himself clean with the back of his sleeve, not caring about looking messy anymore.

“There!” Papyrus said, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Fully reciprocated.” He appeared incredibly proud of himself, beaming up at Mettaton’s sated body and drooping eyelids. He jumped up and looked down at his stained shirt before unbuttoning it completely and dropping it to the ground.

“Excellent,” Mettaton murmured, patting the spot next to him for Papyrus to sit. “You did brilliantly, darling.”

Papyrus shuffled close to him and put and arm around his shoulders, letting Mettaton’s weight rest against him. “I can tell!” His confidence had improved greatly after Mettaton’s orgasm.

Mettaton chuckled. “We’ll have to do this again sometime. Perhaps in a more romantic manner?”

“Agreed!”

“Afterall, we still have that painting to finish. And... I have this growing feeling that you’ll have to see me naked up close a few more times before you can get it quite right.”

Papyrus was getting that _growing feeling_ too. “Wowie, you’re so right!” he managed to say before turning and pressing a kiss onto Mettaton’s lips.

Mettaton hummed against his teeth and then pulled away. “Who knew painting could be so much fun?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been dying to write saucy King Mettaton for a while, so here we go!


End file.
